


Can I Take Your Coat?

by Devereauxs_Disease



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Crack, Flashing, Idiots in Love, M/M, So is Will, Sock Garters, Team Sassy Science holding it down, hannibal is terrible at relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-02
Updated: 2016-05-02
Packaged: 2018-06-06 00:30:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,226
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6729946
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Devereauxs_Disease/pseuds/Devereauxs_Disease
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hannibal and Will have been seeing each other in secret for a few months. Will wishes Hannibal would make a gesture. Hannibal does. Will wishes Hannibal hadn't made that gesture.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Can I Take Your Coat?

**Author's Note:**

  * For [victorine](https://archiveofourown.org/users/victorine/gifts).



> _Do you all know Victorine? We challenged each other to do the prompt “Sock Garters” two different ways. Victorine's was hilarious and touching. Mine is...say it with me, everyone...crack. Check out Victorine’s awesome story[here](http://archiveofourown.org/works/6334081/chapters/15293122). As for mine, I could tell you I’m sorry, but I’m not. _

Fucking Hannibal Lecter didn’t mean a goddamn thing.

Last month, when Hannibal had made them a roast duck to celebrate their two month anniversary, Will had been fooled. He thought the lingering kisses, soft smiles, and mind-bending orgasms meant something. The empath had let himself get romantic. He imagined a bizarre future where the fastidious doctor would happily lounge next to Will’s pack of dogs, content to spend the weekend fucking and fishing.

Will knew it was stupid, but he had let himself hope. That thin possibility for a future might have been enough for a bit, but then Hannibal had abandoned him for a conference in New York.

One week and not one fucking phone call. Will realized around day 5 that he had heard from Jack 8 times that week, while the dude who’s dick he’d been sucking couldn’t be bothered to even shoot him a text. It was abundantly clear what Hannibal thought of Will and their relationship.

So Will had made a point of being busy on the day Hannibal was scheduled to arrive home. Not that Hannibal would call him.

Prick.

Will had called Bev and asked if she felt like going out. Somehow, this had turned into a group activity with Price and Zeller. The group had gathered at Will’s home, gently offering Will venue suggestions. Jimmy had even gone into Will’s closet to pick out an outfit for him. It was around that time Will realized he was being treated like a wounded animal about to be re-released into the wild.

He tried not to get too annoyed about that as he buttoned up the blue striped shirt Price had laid on the bed. Fucking Jimmy, he would choose the one shirt Hannibal bought him.

“Dr. Lecter! Hi! Will! Dr. Lecter is here!”

Will took a breath and checked his phone, no calls, no messages. The balls on this fucker.

“I’ll be right there, Z.”

Will stopped for a mirror check and ran his fingers through his curls. He took the time to adjust his belt, check his teeth, and change into the jeans Price had originally chosen. Will had vetoed them because they were a size smaller than they probably should have been, now he wriggled into them. Not because he wanted Hannibal to notice his ass. Will was above such petty games. He just wanted Hannibal to stand by his front door as long as possible while Jimmy slobbered over him and the dogs rubbed loose fur into his no-doubt obscenely expensive outfit.

When Will finally emerged, he saw Hannibal milling by the door in a long sable cashmere overcoat. His hair was loose and un-gelled, just the way Will liked. Not that it mattered. It also didn’t matter that Hannibal’s face seemed to light up when he noticed the empath approach. Still, something seemed off. Will’s brain kept chewing on the idea that something was wrong when he looked at Hannibal, if he could just put his finger on it.

“Hey Hannibal. What are you doing here?”

“I had not seen you in a week and I found that I was worried about you.”

“Oh, is that why you left me all those messages?” Will kept his tone light, but the small twitch in Hannibal’s lip indicated the good doctor had found the venom in the words.

“I realize I should have perhaps…” Bev and Jimmy were both watching the exchange with undisguised interest. Zeller sat on the floor fluffing the fur behind Winston’s ears. “Would it be possible to speak to you in private?”

Will glared.

“Nope. It would be rude to leave my guests, Doctor. If you want to reschedule an appointment, you can call me, I assume you do have my number?”

Hannibal ducked his head.

“I hope everyone has a lovely evening.”

“Why don’t you come with us?” Zeller asked from the floor. “You want to go glow bowling with us, Dr. Lecter?”

Hannibal looked like he was trying very hard not to get offended at the mere suggestion that he would put rented shoes on his feet.

“I appreciate the offer, Mr. Zeller, perhaps another time.”

“Awww, come on Dr. Lecter, stay!” Jimmy was just a tad too close to Hannibal’s face.

“Yeah, Dr. Lecter, it’ll be fun.” Beverly snagged the back of Price’s shirt and pulled him back gently.

“I thank you, but I should–”

“What’s wrong, Hannibal? Can’t hang out with my colleagues, only the opera board?” Fuck him for coming in here in his stupid tailored coat with his stupid handsome face, and acting like he owned the place. It had been months and Hannibal had yet to deem Will worthy of a public date. Not even an invite to the goddamn opera. Sure, Will would have hated it, but he would have hated it as Hannibal’s boyfriend.

“I am a great fan of all the work your colleagues do, it would be my pleasure to…hang out,” He let his mouth form the last words as if he was attempting an alien language for the first time. His lips pursed into a slight moue; apparently American slang didn’t taste good to the fussy man.

“Well if you’re going to hang out, maybe take off your coat and have a seat? You’re milling by the door like you’re planning an escape.” Will kept poking at his paramour, his mind hissing _not yours not yours not yours_ as he looked at Hannibal. Fuck it, might as well drive him away now. 

“If you want me to take off my coat, Will, I’ll be happy to.” Hannibal’s eyes were glittering with an unspoken challenge when they caught Will’s.

It was the tone that sent a little shiver of panic through Will. He knew that tone. That tone meant Hannibal was about to do something that would send the empath’s heartrate soaring. Sometimes that meant a blow job that threatened Will’s higher brain functions, and sometimes it meant Hannibal was about to do something that would make Will consider shooting the doctor and burying him discreetly in the woods.

God, he hoped it was a blow job.

A second too late, he realized what was bothering him about Hannibal. His beautiful, impeccable doctor, who never had a hair out of place was wearing a tie, but there was no collar framing the fabric. Where was his shirt? Sirens and red flashing lights began blaring in Will’s brain.

The light thump of Hannibal’s cashmere overcoat hitting the ground was the only sound in the room. Will’s face froze in a bizarre pantomime – half agony, half desire.

There stood Hannibal, the stylish, immaculate man of Will’s dreams - naked except for a few well chosen accessories. Will’s brain stuttered to a stop. Hannibal never wore anything less than three layers, even in the midst of muggy Baltimore summers. Yet here he was, standing casually in decidedly less than a three piece suit. Will noted that the tie, a crisp white piece of silk with a blood red floral print, emphasized the doctor’s tan skin, making the vast expanses of visible flesh seem deeper and warmer. It circled his strong neck, the tail swelling slightly as it grazed over the thick thatch of grey chest hair. The tip of the cloth rested at his navel, an arrow emphasizing the slight swell of his stomach while directing the eye lower, over surprisingly narrow hips.

The hips sloped down into a wiry nest of salt and pepper curls. Will cursed the man for managing to have the world’s only graceful looking flaccid cock. It lay thick and slightly to the left, resting on his thigh, looking for all the world like a dancer bending into a graceful arch. Will bit his lips as he took in the well-muscled and finely haired thighs, remembering the feel of them between his legs – like sun warmed steel. Finally, Will’s eyes completed their circuit, landing on the strong calves encased by fine black silk socks and the matching garters necessary to hold them in place.

Of fucking course. Hannibal Lecter would whip his dick out in front of a crowd without the slightest thought, but having someone see him with droopy socks? Now that _would_ be embarrassing.

Will was finally snapped out of his open-mouthed appreciation of Hannibal when he heard the sound of a camera phone shutter. He looked up to see Bev, sporting a shit-eating grin and angling her iPhone.

A stroke, Will was having a stroke. His last moments on this earth would be spent laying on a dog hair covered floor staring up at Hannibal’s cock. Granted, not the worst death he could think of…

“Well, this is just depressing.” Zeller muttered, he had apparently gotten off the floor to get a better angle on Hannibal’s peepshow. Next to him, Price was emitting a high-pitched whining noise, his face eerily still. “Do you lift, Dr. Lecter?”

“I swim, every morning, occasionally after work.” Hannibal subtly arched his back, making his broad shoulders and firm pecs flex.

“Swimming is great exercise. I need to get back to the pool,” Bev said, eyes trained on her phone as she shifted the angle. “Where do you swim?”

Finally, Price’s brain completed the rebooting process.

“Oh my god, look! There aren’t any tan lines!” Jimmy sounded like he was about to burst. He slapped at Zeller’s chest, pointing and bouncing on his toes.

“Jesus, it’s not even the swimming, is it? You just…look like that, don’t you? Probably don’t even have to moisturize. Why do you bother getting dressed, right Bev?” Zeller nudged an elbow into Bev’s ribs lightly.

“KNOCK IT OFF, you’ll fuck up the focus,” Bev was biting her tongue in concentration, angling her phone as she filmed.

Will was dreaming. This was some sort of weird dream and that fucking stag would show up any second and everyone would start bleeding. He looked around, praying to see that feathery bastard pop up behind the couch or stroll out of the bedroom.

“EVERYONE TURN AROUND!” Will knew his tone was bordering on hysterical when the dogs started to whine and dance around his feet with staccato steps.

“Will, honestly, you’re being quite rude. Please stop screaming at your guests.”

Will turned to Hannibal, blue eyes wide as they met smug maroon. He was torn between leaping upon Hannibal and beating him to death – which probably wasn’t a good idea with a camera trained on them – or shoving Hannibal onto the ground and fucking him through the old hardwood flooring – which also probably wasn’t a good idea with his friends in the room.

“You don’t think this is rude? Forcing people to see you like this?” Will knew his voice was creeping toward helium levels in pitch. He lunged for Hannibal, wrapping his body around the smirking doctor and clinging to him like a sloth. “Cover your damn shame, Hannibal.”

“Shame? More like the pride of Lithuania,” Jimmy offered, eyes still fixed on Hannibal’s groin. Unfortunately, that put him eye-level with Will, who gave him a murderous glare. “Or shame. I don’t know…shut up Jimmy.”

Zeller made a sympathetic noise and patted Price’s arm. Beverly was too busy filming to care. 

“This is no different than posing in a life studies class, Will.”

“Damn straight. Would you mind turning Dr. Lecter? I’d love to get the reverse angle in case I feel inspired later.” Bev stayed focused on the camera’s screen.

“Certainly, Ms. Katz, and please, call me Hannibal.” The doctor began to turn, stopped by Will digging his feet into his floor and pushing against Hannibal’s movements.

“You!” Will stuck his finger in Hannibal’s face “Still.”

Will kept his body in shielding position as he groped for Hannibal’s coat. He draped the garment over the doctor’s shoulders, a makeshift toga to cover him.

“You!” The finger swung toward Beverly’s camera. “Shut it down and delete it before I break it.”

Will turned his head toward Zeller and Price, who seemed to be huddling together against the force of Will’s glare.

“You two, don’t speak again. Maybe ever.”

“Will, I’ve never seen you this forceful. I quite admire this change.”

“Yeah he does,” Bev said. Will followed her eyes to the slight tenting under Hannibal’s coat. Will now had two priorities: Getting rid of his goddamn friends and riding Hannibal until the doctor was incredibly sorry for embarrassing him. Something like that. Whatever. First, he had to deal with the three people who were still gawking at his doctor.

Will whipped his head around, snarling at Bev.

“Jesus! I’m deleting now, Graham.” Bev started frantically hitting buttons on her phone. Will marched to Katz and held out a hand, reluctantly she handed the cell over. He checked through it, at least Beverly had the decency to actually delete the videos and pictures.

“Great. Thank you. Now, get the fuck out of here because I need to kill my boyfriend and witnesses are inconvenient.”

“Boyfriend?” The question was soft, the hopefulness in the tone almost as bare as Hannibal. Will turned to the doctor, his rage, possessiveness, and bewilderment subsiding. A new, softer feeling filled the empath’s chest.

“Y-yeah, is that? I mean, um, if you want…I want…” Will could feel fire licking up his cheeks and four pairs of eyes boring into him. He focused on one pair of eyes, his favorite pair – maroon and filled with joy.

“I hadn’t dared to hope.” Will took a step toward Hannibal, a smile turning up one corner of the empath’s mouth.

“AWWWWWWW!” The chorus of people who were somehow STILL IN HIS FUCKING LIVING ROOM sounded.

Will froze.

“This is so cute.” Price leaned his head on Zeller’s shoulder.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen Hannibal smile,” said Zeller, resting his head on top of Jimmy’s in a soft nuzzle.

“Yeah, well his, uh…heart is certainly growing three sizes.” Katz was smiling again and Will felt the urge to kill rise in his throat as all eyes turned to what he considered his very personal territory. Sure enough, the bulge beneath Hannibal’s coat was more pronounced. The psychiatrist simply smiled, keeping his eyes on Will.

“OK, SHOW’S OVER.” Will spun on his heel to face his friends. “Everybody who’s not fucking me leaves now.”

Bev and Zeller moved to the door, when Price didn’t immediately follow, Zeller backtracked.

“That wasn’t an invitation, Jimmy. Come on.” Price made a vague whining noise as he was led out the door. As soon as it closed, Will whirled to face Hannibal.

“Seven days ago I wake up to an empty bed and a pillow that smelled like you. Seven fucking days, Hannibal.”

“I was at a conference.”

Will closed the distance between them, eyes hurt and lips pressed into a firm line.

“A conference where they confiscate your cell for a week?”

Hannibal’s face hardened.

“Do you recall what you said to me as I held you the night before I left?”

“Yeah, I told you that you didn’t have to recite Keats after every orgasm.”

Hannibal smiled then, a faint twitch of the mouth, but his face remained shuttered. Will leaned in closer, running a hand lightly over Hannibal’s cashmere covered chest.

“You said _Thank god you’re going, I could use a break. I was getting sick of you_.”

Will’s hand stopped.

“I was kidding! Jesus Hannibal, do they not cover jokes in medical school?”

Hannibal was suddenly exceptionally interested in whatever was just over Will’s right shoulder.

“In jest, there is truth.”

Will sighed and flopped his head on Hannibal’s shoulder - a dramatic, affectionate head-butt.

“Do you know what I miss about dating women? They’re less sensitive than you.”

Hannibal started to pull away, but Will was quicker, twining his arms around the doctor like a vice.

“Honestly, you’re supposed to be the smart one in this venture. So let’s see what that scary brain of yours missed: I’m lying in your arms, filled with your come, and nuzzling into your chest. We haven’t established what type of relationship we have, and I know you’re leaving me for a week. Now, I can cry and beg you not to go because I will miss you. OR…”

Hannibal leaned into Will’s arms, chin rubbing into the curls above Will’s ear.

“Or you could make a joke about getting tired of me to avoid emotional vulnerability.”

“This is my design,” Will whispered.

“I thought of you every day, Will. Of how I could spoil and cajole you into keeping me for just a bit longer.” Hannibal mouthed at the shell of Will’s ear.

“And after a week of careful deliberation you decided on a tie, flopping cock, and sock garters?” 

“It worked wonders on Mr. Price.”

They both started laughing. Silently shaking together as they nestled into soft kisses along necks and nips at earlobes.

“Don’t you ever, EVER do that again. Do you hear me?” Will thumped Hannibal’s chest affectionately, pressing teeth into the doctor’s jugular. “Nobody sees my boyfriend naked but me, OK?”

“Whatever you wish, Will.” Hannibal’s breath was getting ragged as Will sucked along his neck.

“Good. Now I believe you had a present for me?” Will yanked on the overcoat, letting it pool on the ground before stepping back from the doctor to assess the look. “Goddamn you, this really is pretty fucking hot.”

Will ran a hand along Hannibal’s tie, grabbing it and jerking the man closer.

“I knew I could get you to appreciate a good tie eventually.”

“I have seven days’ worth of sexual frustration to take out on this tie. I hope it wasn’t a favorite.”

“I have a feeling it will be.” Hannibal said, seeking Will’s mouth. Tongue and teeth clashed as they melded, Will kept the tie in his hand. When they broke apart, the empath led his doctor toward the bed, using the tie as a leash.

* * *

Ten miles outside of Wolf Trap and Jimmy was still pouting.

“He deleted all the pictures? Even the video?”

“Jesus Price, don’t make me pull over and kill you.” Bev gripped the steering wheel.

“What? You’re not a little disappointed?”

“No. I’m pissed.” Bev turned and flashed Price a big smile. “You should have more faith in me by now, Jimmy. Check your text messages, boys.”

The squeal emitted from Price threatened to shatter the car’s windows. Zeller and Price both fumbled for their phones.

“HOLY SHIT! Bev, you are the greatest person who ever lived. Statues will be carved in your honor. Statues should be carved in his honor too…”

“Thanks Z, I’ll take cash donations to the Bev is Getting Drunk Tonight fund.”

“How did you do this? I thought Will was watching you? Should I make this my lock screen?”

“No, Price. Just…no. And the second Will screamed I sent out a group text, I know how to read a room.” Bev was feeling a little smug, honestly.

“The group text?”

“Yeah, Z, the group text, the one from yesterday.”

“The one that Crawford was on?”

The brakes squealed.

“Maybe he hasn’t checked–”

Bev was interrupted by her phone ringing. She sighed and closed her eyes.

“Katz here.”

“WHAT THE EVERLOVING FUCK DID YOU SEND ME, BEVERLY?”

Beverly couldn’t decide what was worse: The ringing in her ears or the hysterical laughter from the morons in the backseat.


End file.
